Love Hurts (21 page)

“I’m so sorry, Mamma, I couldn’t get to her. The road was washed out.”

Mamma let out a loud moan. “I’m going to die,” she wailed.

Catarina raced toward the bed and patted her Mamma’s arm. “No, Mamma, no please, you’re not going to die. I’ll help you. I’ll do my best.”

“What do you think you can do, you pathetic girl? You’re useless.” Mamma turned her face away from Catarina.

Catarina backed away from the bed. She didn’t know what to do, but she didn’t want her Mamma to die either. She thought back to the visit Maria made a month ago to discuss the coming babe. She’d told so many stories about births until Catarina’s ears burned and she swore she’d never go through it herself. One thing popped to her mind and she ran for the kitchen.

Within minutes she had the stove crackling with a hot fire and she’d filled the largest kettle with water and set it on top. Then she raced to the water closet to clean up and change. She didn’t have time for a bath, but she washed her face and hands in the hottest water she could manage and changed into her oldest clothes. From the stories she’d heard, bringing babies was a messy job, and she didn’t want to wreck the new clothes Papà brought her from the last market day, although the mud might have already ruined them.

Catarina, breathing hard, rushed back into Mamma’s room. Mamma looked much the same. She still looked sweaty, which gave Catarina an idea. She ran back to the kitchen and got a small bowl of water and a cloth. She filled the bowl with cool water and carried it back to the room, careful not to spill. She didn’t want to leave water on the floor that she could slip on while carrying the baby.

Mamma turned to Catarina with a growl as soon as she started sponging the sweat off her face. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just trying to help you, Mamma. You look hot and sweaty.”

Mamma said nothing more, just closed her eyes and turned her face to the wall.

Please Mamma, don’t die.
It became a mantra for Catarina as she found the baby clothes Papà brought from the market. She set up the cradle and put a soft blanket inside. Catarina started to feel anticipation for the new little sister or brother. She just hoped Mamma would do what was needed for the baby to be born.

There was a long low moan from the bed. Catarina hurried over. “Mamma, what can I do?”

“Get a sharp knife from the kitchen.”

Catarina sucked in a breath and reared back from the bed.

“No, you stupid girl, it’s for the cord,” Mamma said. Her voice lacked anger despite the words. She sounded exhausted. “Make sure you put the knife in boiling water to clean it and then wrap it in a clean cloth and bring it here. There are clean cloths in the cupboard beside the mixing bowls. I prepared them for the birth. They’ve all been boiled. Bring them as well as a big kettle of hot water.” Mamma’s voice trailed off and her eyes closed. She looked like she was asleep.

Catarina hurried away to get everything ready. She set the cloths and the knife up on the dresser and struggled and shoved until it was close to the bed. She then checked on Mamma, patting her face and neck with the cool cloth.

Mamma opened her eyes. “Do you have everything ready?”

It was like Mamma didn’t even see her. Catarina shuddered.

“Yes, Mamma, I do.”

“Okay, now we need to put the sheet on the bed.” Mamma waved a hand at the bureau that held the birthing things. “Inside, bottom drawer, there’s a big sheet. We need to protect the mattress.”

Catarina had no idea how she was going to be able to change the bedding with Mamma in it. She got the sheet and as she turned back toward the bed, she was startled to see Mamma climbing out of it, slowly, like an old woman, her huge belly like a massive melon. Catarina rushed to pull the blankets off and place the heavy sheet over the bed clothes. Mamma groaned and leaned against the bed. Catarina’s hands shook and fumbled. She was thankful Mamma was in too much pain to smack her head.

“Come, Mamma.” Catarina helped her heavy mamma back into the bed, settled her on the pillow and folded away the top blankets as Mamma told her to do.

Mamma leaned back against the pillows, grabbed her legs and groaned, her face turning purple. After a minute of this, she looked up at Catarina, her hair sweaty and stuck around her face. “Tell me if you can see the head.”

Catarina looked down at her Mamma’s private area and resisted squeezing her eyes shut. “Not yet. Push, Mamma, push,” Catarina urged, wanting the ordeal over.

Mamma pushed and pushed for the next half hour until Catarina was nearly as exhausted as she was. Finally Catarina yelled, “I see it, the head, the head!”

Mamma leaned back, her face white. “I can’t push anymore.” Her head slumped over in a faint.

Catarina shrieked and leapt toward Mamma, “No, Mamma, don’t die. You have to finish.” She grabbed the bowl of water and squeezed the cloth out. She patted Mamma’s face and neck, praying to Madonna that she would wake, that the baby would be safe. “Please, Mamma,” she begged. “The baby needs to come out.”

After pleading for about five minutes, but it seemed like an hour, Mamma opened her eyes and got to work. She didn’t even look at her daughter, but pushed like a mad woman. Within minutes the baby slipped out and onto the bed. Catarina stood in shock until Mamma yelled at her to clean out the baby’s mouth. She rushed forward and did exactly as Mamma told her, tying off the cord with a clean piece of string, which she found among the cloths. The baby started crying, and, although it was a weak cry, it gained strength. Catarina’s face broke out in a huge grin. They’d done it, she and Mamma. They’d given birth to her little brother.

“Mamma,” she whispered reverently. “Look, Mamma, we have a baby brother.”
 

Mamma leaned back against the bed, her eyes closed. “Cut the cord now,” she said.
 

Catarina’s gaze found the knife wrapped in a cloth on the bureau. Her hands shook at the thought of bringing that weapon anywhere near her baby brother.

“Bring it to me.”
 

Catarina turned to see Mamma glaring at her. She walked slowly to the bureau and unwrapped the knife. She picked it up and brought it to her mamma.

“Now, give me the baby.”

Catarina felt reluctant, but she carefully picked up the slippery boy and brought him close to her Mamma, who reached out and with a quick swipe sliced through the cord. A tiny amount of blood shot out and Catarina nearly dropped the baby, pulling him close to her chest just in time.

Mamma dropped the knife to the floor and moaned like she had when she was in labor. Catarina looked between her legs, afraid another baby was coming, but instead a big blob of something came out. It wasn’t a baby, but Catarina had no idea what it was. She started to shake again.
 

“It’s just the afterbirth, Catarina. Clean up the boy and then bring him to me.”

Catarina laid her brother on the end of the bed and got the clean cloths, wringing them in the now warm water. She cleaned the baby and then put one of the diapers on him, just like she did on her own dolls. If felt strange. Catarina’s head buzzed with a sound like a thousand bees. She dressed her brother in a gown and wrapped him in a soft blanket, then she brought him to Mamma, reluctant now to let him go. She didn’t like the blank look on Mamma’s face.

“Give him to me,” Mamma said, her voice harsh.

Catarina jumped a little and held her brother closer. She stepped nearer to the bed and held him out, hoping now that Mamma would quickly fall back asleep so Catarina could take him away. He was almost like her baby and not just a brother. She felt like she’d worked nearly as hard as Mamma to bring him into the world.

Mamma took him and laid him on her chest. She didn’t cuddle him or pull him close and he started to cry. Catarina felt like crying along with him.

“Go get me some milk. Heat it on the stove and do not come back until it’s ready.”

Catarina hesitated, confused.

“I need milk, Catarina. I need milk to bring in my own.” Mamma’s voice grew weak, but there was steel beneath.

It made sense to Catarina, so she didn’t understand her own reluctance to leave her brother alone with his mother. But she knew the harsh consequences of disobeying her mamma. She left the room.

For the first time in her life, Catarina deliberately disobeyed Mamma. The milk was heating on the stove, but she couldn’t dismiss her uneasiness. She crept back down the hall. She peeked into the room and let out a shriek.

“No! What are you doing? You’re evil!” Catarina screamed.

She snatched the pillow out of her mother’s hands and grabbed the now lifeless baby boy into her arms. She patted his face, blew on him, all the while sobbing in despair. After a while, she realized it was futile and she slumped against the bed. Mamma lay there watching Catarina, no emotion evident on her face. It was like she didn’t even realize she had just murdered her newborn son.

“What is wrong with you?” Catarina sobbed. “How can you be so evil?”

Mamma leaned back on her pillows and stared up at the beamed ceiling. “We can’t afford another mouth to feed. I wouldn’t have had him if your father had left me alone.”

Catarina didn’t know what that meant, but she understood the overall meaning. “You killed my brother because we don’t have much money?” It was beyond belief. Catarina looked down at the still form in her arms and all strength left her body. She slid to the floor, the little bundle in her arms weighing nearly nothing. She cried and rocked him. She cried for all the times she would never get to hear his cries, his giggles. She’d never get to see him grow up and follow his big sister around. She rocked him for all the times she’d never be able to soothe his hurts and wipe his tears. The hole in her heart was shaped like him and would never be filled. So she did the best she could and filled it up with hate. Hate for her mamma. Except she would never call her Mamma again. She would never speak to her again.

She broke that vow a few minutes later when a weak voice from the bed said, “Now, you have to go and bury it in the garden. Before your papà gets home.”

Catarina jumped to her feet, clutched Benito, as she decided to call him, to her neck. Fear raced in icy shivers up and down her body. “Never! I’m going to tell Papà what you’ve done!”

“You will never tell your papà. If you do, I will tell him you did it in a fit of jealousy.”

Mamma’s voice was terrifyingly calm. Catarina knew she’d do it, but would Papà believe her?

“I will also call the constable and report you. I will tell them to take you away.”

That did it for Catarina. There was nothing she could do for Benito now, but she could ensure that he had a nice spot to rest for eternity.

Moving like she had also died—but her body didn’t know it yet—she gathered a few things. She carefully wrapped Benito in two soft blankets, kissing his blue lips before she covered his face for the last time. She didn’t bother with a coat; she picked him up and carried him out the door and into the storm that still raged.

Although she was buffeted, Catarina hardly noticed. She fought her way to her favorite tree, a lemon tree. She put the bundle down and covered him with another soft blanket. She pushed through the wind, her dress now clinging to her and her skin covered in gooseflesh. She shivered, but didn’t care. There was a small spade in the shed where Papà kept his few tools. He wasn’t a man who worked his land; he worked with his mind and his talented hands, creating beautiful paintings which he sold for little money.

Catarina walked back to the tree, dragging the spade behind her. She fell a couple of times, but made no sound. She just got to her feet again and kept moving, her eyes now completely dry. She had no tears left.

The ground was softened by the rain, so it didn’t take long for Catarina to dig a hole deep enough. Mud kept sliding in, but she worked like she’d been digging holes every day of her life. She crawled to the bundle that was her brother and lifted off the now sodden blanket. The one underneath was still dry. Catarina clutched him close in one arm and crawled back to the hole. She sat down beside it in the mud with her brother tucked under her chin and against her shoulder, just as she would have held him over and over while he grew into a toddler. She didn’t want to let him go and for a while prayed she would die along with him. It was only the thoughts of Papà’s pain of losing her and what lies Mamma would tell that forced her to place Benito into the hole.
 

Catarina made quick work of covering the baby. The first clump of wet earth to hit the blanket caused such a searing pain in her heart that she wondered if a ten-year-old girl could die of a heart attack. Once the deed was done, Catarina dropped the spade and collapsed. The storm stopped as if it had been commanded to.

Catarina woke up as the sun was beginning to send light over the mountains. She got to her hands and knees, her teeth clacking together and her limbs stiff from the cold and the digging. She crawled through the mud and found her way to the front door where she collapsed again. Papà found her there hours later.